Year: 2014

The Trade.

laughterbubbles The deep well of words. , ,

My very well meaning, but utterly crazy batch mates, insisted I go beyond a blog! So here is a sample, of  a “Beyond the blog – plunge” – written a few years ago.

GO  L.V.G.A !!

The breeze was balmy and she sweat freely. But the sea always called her. Alone she would walk by the beach, the waves calming her tumultuous mind. The fishermen had gathered. She knew most of them by face. Every day at the same time she would walk past them and stand and watch their catch, some of the fish yet thrashing, side to side in their struggle to survive, wildly trying to breathe in an atmosphere which was stifling them. She would stand  and watch them, mesmerized by their need to survive. Wasn’t it easier to just give up and die?

There was an unusual excitement amongst them today. “What a catch! Kya maal aya hain haath mein!” they exclaimed. Indeed it was a catch. She was a catch! And she was caught, between the struggle for power and the union of two rich families. One day suddenly, without being asked, her life was changed. It was an exchange a mongering, a trade. And she had no say in the matter.

As she walked, her mind weaved, hitched and always stopped on him. The man she met on the beach, the man who was her life and the sweet breath of love. The man, who was now, walking towards her. The radiance and love from his face caught her straight in the guts. Even after five years of knowing each other the love grew and strengthened. He was tall dark and lean to her petit small build. But today she would perhaps, kill that radiance forever.

She told him, before he could even touch her. A smoker thinks he is immortal and cancer can never touch him. Lovers think their love is forever and the ending always happy. They always knew this could happen, but knowing does not diminish the pain. He held on to the intense longing to touch her, but there had to be a cut, a long viscious slice, made by the lethal blades of a family barter. Without a word, tears streaming down his face, he turned and walked away without a backward glance. She had killed his spirit without bleeding him.

She herself was bleeding from the inside. For a long time she stared at his bent back. She knew he weeped and his soul sobbed. But she could not cry. Her emotions were dead. She walked on, until she reached the shore and the waves tickled her feet. The sea had always answered her questions. This time her soul decided. She walked into the sea, waves lashing at her. Kept walking. Somewhere far behind she thought she heard shouts. But she kept walking till her beloved sea claimed her.

Around the same time, fishermen snagged a heavy object in their nets. “What a waste of a life” they said. “ Such a handsome man, so tall and lean”

She was right. It was easier to die than struggle forever.

 

Ganpati Bappa Morya, and my freedom of speech.

laughterbubbles The people around us! , ,

This year has been the culmination of my growing grouse against the Ganpati Festival.

The growing up years were spent, sitting on our compound wall and whispering prayers to every Ganpati idol that passed by. And 5 off them passed us, every 2 seconds. After an hour of doing this, I was desperate to get off the wall and play our running games, but the rest of my friends felt uneasy, leaving their fervent prayers and turning their backs on all the surplus idols passing by.

Lokmanya Tilak, he of short foresight, turned this festival from a small family affair into a political fiasco, in 1894. I admit it was done in goodness of his Maratha heart, but like everything in India reaches a crescendo, this has gone beyond limits. The Hare Krishna, Isckon sect, the Osho followers, the Shri Shri Ravi Shankar herd, everything has gone beyond proportions and into the political stratosphere.

The welcoming of the Elephant God, with pomp and drama, the invites for darshan, which have become a social gathering and a compulsion, the loud Bollywood music blaring through illegal speakers, out of tune aarti, traffic jams, unnecessary dispersion of wealth, and massive upheaval of our lives. Everything leaves me feeling bleak and angry.

Many years back, my mom who writes dances ballets based on Hindu mythology had created one where the lord refused to come to earth when called for Ganesh Chaturthi. He complained that in the years gone, he was loved for himself. He heard prayers and hymns instead of trashy Bollywood rukus, ate good home made sweets instead of cakes and chocolates and was treated with respect. I find that so very pertinent now.

I know I have just earned the wrath of a lot of friends and my sister, but this festival needs to be saved. Last night I saw the sea in spate, and people trying to immerse the idol. All the idols kept floating back. But once the idol had touched the water, and the devout had carried that little bit of the sea sand on the same platform that previously carried their idol- they left that very same God, to whom they were fervently praying to for days – without a backward glance. The next day the cleaners came in and swept aside all the broken idols along with the garbage and the days poop and pee. The permanent effect was a sea with more toxins, sea life harmed, for a mere few days of utter devotion.

I believe myself to be largely non superstitious. I’ve shed those last ounces I held, when I was faced with this festival once more. I believe in a universal force and see it in God. And my only prayers to the Lord are to keep his feet on the top of my kids’ heads, so that they remain grounded. And use those very same feet in a swift motion, on their backsides if they so need.

Rites of passage.

laughterbubbles The people around us! , , , ,

From that tiny fetus swimming and kicking in my stomach to the time I held a hungry, squirmy yelling kid in my arms, to now, when he leaves our home and flies the nest, we as parents have come a long way. The rites of passage have been happy, sad and sometimes heart breaking. This kid, our last one in particular has given us a few heart attacks, but many many more happy times. And to think we had him in the most unplanned and disorderly fashion, in the midst of life changing decisions the family was making.

The day he cut his first tooth was a delight. We were as it is struggling with feeding, with me wanting to feed him for a few more months and he struggling to break out and venture into the world of chewing and masticating. This fellow with his puppy fat and soft skin, whom I forever kept in diapers only, so that I could cuddle him any time I felt like, started school. The sight of him in a brand new uniform – Had I known then, that it would lead to this day, I would perhaps have kept him home. But again life has to spin and move.

Days of fever, heart breaks and happier days of winning matches, being chosen to lead the school in games, friends leaving, new friends, voice cracking, girl friends and girl friend issues, studies, SAT’s, Essays and now here we are.

It’s time for the kid to leave. I’ve already sent off the first one. It was heart breaking enough. We know in our hearts that this is their step into the real world. They might never come back home. Their rooms will remain empty for months on end and one day we shall hear that they might not occupy that room again. We don’t know, we think, but it’s a damn close possibility.

But whatever the future holds, what ever their lives lead them to do, we parents have years of spit, poop, pee, gurgles, laughter, love and hugs to hold us together for the rest of our lives.

 

 

Thanks!

laughterbubbles The people around us!

The Blog feed is going to get very erratic for a while. The second and last kid is leaving for college. It’s a time of great pride and utter panic. I lie back most days and think of things which might never come to past, and that’s the time my friend’s voice echoes loudly in my head. She has taught me to look at things positively. I am normally not a morbid person, but sometimes my mind can evoke ghosts and all that is toxic.

I have many people to thank in my life, for no one achieves anything in isolation. So here is my outpouring of thanks to the many people who have taught me various lessons in life.

One traditionally begins with their parents, but I will not. I have to start with my two sets of grandparents.

I saw my paternal grand father for all of one and half years of my life. He passed away too early. But I remember him. Dad says the last few years he lived for me. And when one is told that someone lived only for you, one toes the line when going off track. Grand-mom, is the soul of generosity. Unconditionally, she has bought up various children of various distant cousins and all were treated like her only child – my Dad. No one has a count of how many people she has got home and taken care of through myriad diseases and illnesses.

The maternal grand father invoked a love for books, which I passed on to my daughter. Grand mom was something else. On her, I want to write a book. She has taken care of me through out my life. She is no more, but I owe my first thanks to her for all that is nice in my life.

Dad was a maverick parent. He taught me to iron, make the bed, plait my hair, and other stuff which Dad’s don’t teach. I’ve seen Dad be pleasant to the most disgusting of people. I’m volatile and could never understand it. But now that I have kids of my own, I get the point. Whatever discipline I have in life, is because of him.

Mom always said that “What ever you do, do it to the best of your ability”. I’ve passed that one on to the kids as well. Love for music, creative bent of mind, wild adventurous nature – all Mom’s gift to me.

My aunt. She was there for me when I was at my rebellious best. When no one made sense, she got into my head and sorted me out. My career in cooking and love for creative food comes from her. She was and will be the get- set- go of my life.

My elder sister – my back bone. Never known somebody with a more quick wit. Adore her, for all that she is. She is my “go to” for all sorts of troubled spots I get myself into.

The younger sister, with her unconditional love,is my “always there” pal. I love her immensely. There is no specific reason – I just do.

The husband – he needs a book of his own – written by me. I have lived with him more years than my parents. My support, in all things mad. He keeps me safe and I keep him wild! That’s our pact!

The kids- my life line and my heart and soul. I have to thank them for being born, for being my kids and making my life a huge wide bowl of spice and all that’s nice.

The friend – she knows who she is. She will hide the body of the person I murder, and only after that, slap me for getting into trouble. The universe bought her late into my life. But the universe never makes false entries and exits. I am saner because of her.

My Sister- in – law- That one person who has kept the family tingling with love and acceptance.

The other: sister – in – law. And her two adorable kiddos. How dull life would be without them. Another one, with mad sense of humor. She met with an accident some years back, and I never ever, saw her shed a tear. To be able to smile through such pain… if I know someone like that and not learn from her? Who would be a bigger fool than me?

And because this blog is getting big, I am stopping here. My life has been full of the most wonderful people. Some are still here and some have exited by choice. Many have not been mentioned. I have to thank them all and will do so by and by.

I do believe, very firmly, that one changes everyday. If nothing else you grow a day older.

Things Lulu taught me.

laughterbubbles Dogs , , , ,

Lulu came into our lives when my daughter was 7. Lulu needed a home, and my daughter needed a friend. From that day, to this day, these two have remained bonded in a way I cannot explain. Lulu is no more. But she will always be with us.

I was told that dogs at home, absorb all the negative energies of their human family. Whether this is true or not, I cannot say, but it was heavily vindicated in our household. The kids hardly ever fell ill. There were only two humans who frequented our house that Lulu hated. She would bark, growl and complain incessantly till they left. Later one was found to be a thief. After that if Lulu did not like someone, neither did we!

Lulu left us with deep and profound lessons of love and living.

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photo 1

1) Sit in the sun. It’s healthy, and a great source of Vitamin D. Let your body tell you whats lacking.

I complained to the vet that Lulu sat in the sun for too long. She told me to let her be. She feels the need for the healing sun and she takes it.

 

 

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2) Stare at open spaces. Dream little dreams. Let your imagination run riot.

 

 

C'mon lil one. You can do it!
C’mon lil one. You can do it!

3) Play with your younger sibling. Years later, when he/ she sees the picture they will love  you more.

 

 

Yeah! It itches just there!
Yeah! It itches just there!

4) Chat with your parents’ friends. You might learn a few things.

 

 

XOXO
XOXO

5) Kiss your kids!

 

 

Come here! Let me hug you!
Come here! Let me hug you!

Love you girl!

Love you girl!

6) Cuddle with your loved ones! It leaves you with a warm squishy feeling.  – Hugs!! Dont forget hugs!

 

 

Curl up and sleep.
Curl up and sleep.

6) Take a nap when you want to.

 

 

Sit with your friends and chat!
Sit with your friends and chat!

7) Sit with your siblings and friends. Pose. Take pictures. Make the most of the time with your friends.

 

 

I just dont like this!!!!!
I just dont like this!!!!!

8)Complain – make your disapproval known. You never know, one day you might save a life.

 

 

May god always have great stores of rats and cats for you to chase!
May god always have great stores of rats and cats for you to chase!

9) Be who you are. You will leave behind loving memories. No one will ever forget you.

 

 

 

 

 

We went to school too!

laughterbubbles Travel - Cities and Towns

My daughter is already in college. This year the son spreads his wings too. And come September we have an empty nest, empty rooms and two desolate dogs. These dogs already have my love, but now they are going to be the sole recipients of crushing hugs, spur of the moment outbursts of violent cuddling. That’s how I intend to make up for the two missing kids, who kissed them on the mouth and let them sleep with them, even if they had rolled in poo. And I don’t think my kind of love is what the dogs are looking for. Most often they see “the look” in my eye and run far away.

Both the kids have done IB. (International Baccalaureate). It’s a fearsome, two-year program. I tried with my daughter, really did, to understand the way they study, the way their subjects are structured. I gave up, within 2 minutes. Physics paper 1 and paper 2. Paper 2 is alternate to lab. (How can you alternate to lab?) English did not have any textbooks. Why? Because it wasn’t literature. It was not even grammar. “What is it then I asked?” She said “Mom, I am buried here in a mess. I have a 500-word essay to submit, another mid term due and 3 assignments to complete. I cannot explain this ++++ to you!” I backed off hurriedly, and after that I would enter her room with extreme trepidation. There would be assorted files all over the place, with scary looking scribbled papers poking out. Each paper had the value of 2 years of hard work.

I really felt bad for them kids. We had it so much easier in life.

 

My batchmates. We did not need FB to stay in touch.
My batchmates. We did not need FB to stay in touch.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We had 49 students in our class, not 15. We had more friends.

Our classes were called standards, not grades.

We had one class, not multiple divisions.

The teachers’ knew us. They did not have to hold up our I cards to see our names.

We HAD no I cards. Our faces were our identity.

Gurkhaji knew each child’s going-home schedule. Fernandes bus child, BEST child, Mommy pick up child etc. Unknown security guards did not monitor our entrances and exits.

We had school from 10 am to 4 pm. Not unearthly hours of 7 am to 4 pm.

We had throw ball and athletics. No fancy tennis and basketball courts for us.

We had one PT teacher. PT stood for Physical Training. We did not have a fancy team of PE teachers. It was never Physical Education for us. It was just plain fun in the sun.

We were known by our names. Even to the office staff.

The teachers knew the records of our pranks and academic falls and rises. They did not have to look us up in fancy filing systems.

Our teachers when we were in school.
Our teachers when we were in school.

The teacher, who taught me in KG class, had also taught my 10 years older sister in KG class, and my 10 years younger sister in the same class. They did not change every “Semester”.

Most of them are still teaching in our school.
Most of them are still teaching in our school.

We had terms and not Semesters.

We got a holiday in pouring rain. We did not have to rush to school to show our sincerity.

We played honest to goodness interschool sports, in semi playable grounds. Fancy in-house tournaments were never organized for us.

We were hit at least once by our teachers, and our parents applauded it, instead of marching into school with cavalry and names of politicians.

Our parents could never enter school for the heck of it. Corridor walking parents were not allowed.

We beat each other up and took care of our problems. Parents never heard of our issues.

We did not have fancy canteens, catered by fancy restaurants. Infact we did not have a canteen.

We had a huge garden to play in. Not a rugged concrete passage.

We had ranks and marks and percentages. We did not have grades and percentiles.

We had 2 tests, mid term Exams and 1 final exam, which determined the status of our promotion to the next class. We did not have TOK, EE, IOC, IA, II, WL, PP, CAS, and other combinations of vowels and consonants.

You see, we went to school too.

 

Snoring!

laughterbubbles ROFL , , ,
Anything for this kind of peaceful sleep!
Anything for this kind of peaceful sleep!

A while ago, someone questioningly pointed at the husband’s dark circle, and in answer he scowled and pointed at me. It was a very deep and profound statement, delivered with out a single word being said.

He has been having sleepless nights –  Because I snore. Loudly.

I remember a weekend out with my grand mom and grand dad. I must have been thirteen years old. Just before we were retiring to bed, grand dad called me out and took me in a corner, and whispered conspiringly, “ If you feel you are hearing a steam engine at night, don’t get scared. It will only be your grand mom snoring.” I remember snorting with laughter, till I fell asleep.

It’s that same sound that jolted me out of bed one night. It was a fearsome growl mixed with deep sonorous snores. Nothing soft and gentle about it.

The first time I heard myself, I woke up and jumped out of bed, with my eyes still squelched shut. I was looking around for an intruder, my mind running all the moves of kick boxing, that I had ever learnt. The husband, who was obviously awake, said “Come back to bed. There is no one else in this room. No one will dare enter. You were snoring and sounding like a wounded lion.” And he went back to sleep, before I could start snoring again. I was wounded too and really worried, because I was getting these terrible bad vibes of being thrown out of the room. Which was okay by me, except the bed in the other room was not very comfortable.

Snoring is not the only thing I inherited from my grand mom. I inherited her dark circles too. Most days my eyes look like I have been socked a good one. My nights go something like this – “ I am snoring? Oh! Good Lord! That’s for oldies. I am not that old. Oh! Boy! I better loose some weight before I turn 40. It will be really difficult to after wards. No wonder those jeans don’t fit me. Should I buy new ones till I loose weight, or hang on to these. Hang? Hell! I forgot to hang the kid’s uniform in his room. He’s going to charge around. ……. “. And so on and so forth. The mind is running all over the place when awake and making the oddest dreams when asleep. So – of course I have dark circles!

Something had to be done about the snoring, My friend swore, that her husband’s snoring almost disappeared after he started doing yoga. So I started too. Except the teacher loved to talk. Incessantly. And all about how great he has become after he started yoga. It took all my newly found yogic calm, to not assume kick boxing positions, in lieu of yogic positions.

I have learnt what I need for my snoring. It has definately helped. Now I’m trying to get hold of my dog Oreo. He sounds like my co-wounded lion, when he sleeps. And he sleeps practically the whole day and chases rats the full night. I’m trying to teach him yoga. The bugger keeps running away. And just as well, because he looks at me judgementaly, like I have lost some of the brains on the floor, while doing the inverse yoga moves.

Dead to the world, snoring Oreo.
Dead to the world, snoring Oreo.

 

 

Have you been hugged lately?

laughterbubbles Travel - Cities and Towns , ,

Have you been hugged lately? It’s a wonderful feeling.

Get one today!
Get one today!

I am new to hugs. I would give a half – hearted one and let the person go, till one day my daughter’s new friend, met me for the first time. She immediately got up and gave me one of the tightest – I wont let you go soon- kind of hug. I was surprised and I admit it took me a few moments to reach out and hug her back. I also admit that I was a bit taken aback and thought it was a bit much, but when I left the room and went into my own, I remember feeling this fuzzy warm feeling, like I have never felt before. It was a I ask for nothing back – hug.

I have always hugged and cuddled the kids. And it has held me in good stead, because even now at the threshold of adulthood, they are still easy to hug, and now I need it more than them.

I have a cousin. He always hugs as a greeting. A nice warm, huge hug, accompanied by, a hearty laugh. His eyes light up, his never- been – cut moustache curls into his cheeks and, we all get left feeling so very special.

So often when I am at a loss for words, I just give a hug. What can oft repeated words convey that a hug cannot?

photo 2

So all you mommies, daddies, husbands, sisters (Mine is awesone! She hugs and kisses,) please go out there and hug your loved ones. Life is too short. It’s a matter of one second to let go of your inhibition. And the returns are unbelievable.

Maybe one day you will convert a non-hugger like those kids converted me!

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photo 2

PS: Try hugging a dog. It’s even better!

My kids and other animals.

laughterbubbles ROFL, The people around us! , , ,

Many years ago we lived in a small cottage. My family on the ground floor, and a big fat snooty woman, her arrogant husband and their nice children, on the 1st floor. Opposite building had, assorted kids of assorted ages and dispositions. A mad gardener who had pyromania, a piano teacher, assorted movie personalities, and a few undescribable human beings.

I wanted my kids to learn some of the same elements of wildness, that I had, and, which had turned clumps of my mother’s hair startling white. So the kids raced around barefoot and ate with dirty hands, climbed trees, cycled at dangerous speeds, rummaged in the overgrown garden and of course lived with assorted animals.

We had one dog, and another walked in our garden leaving his siblings with their mother. He was all furry and cute and was promptly adopted. The lady upstairs had cats – lots of them. They slunk around all over the place, hissed at my dogs and drove them batty. So much so that when my daughter went up to play with her kids, one of my dogs kept guard, giving her warning barks- telling her not to get too friendly with the cats. We kept fish, but they ate each other up. Many other dogs ran amok in the compound and my dogs would take off randomly, to the beach. We had direct access to the beach, which was also an invitation for more wild dogs.

One day the kids ran in, highly excited. There was a gaggle of them kids. (I felt so proud looking at my dirty haired, filthy nailed, muddy faced kids..!!) In her tiny hands, my daughter had a small baby parrot, looking all disoriented and bewildered. We immediately fashioned a large basket, tied up at four ends, looped up the rope and hung it high on our, open-to-sky balcony. We were reluctant to close the bird in a cage. It was a fledgling, could barely fly, and we all feel in love.

Nippy (for he loved to nip at my gold earrings) soon grew, as did the blood lust of my younger dog, Teddy.  When we realised he could fly, but could not stay up for too long, we had to put him in a cage.

For flying practice, Nippy was taken to our closed living room and left to experiment. He would flutter, rise to the ceiling, try to sit on the fan (switched off obviously) and then land on my shoulder, climb up my neck and nip my earrings. We were both in love with each other.

Soon Nippy was desperate to fly all the time. We all wanted Nippy to be one with the wild, and so we started leaving the cage door open. Until one day I saw something, which had my heart beating in my mouth, and my knees as weak as a limp cucumber. Nippy would step out of his cage and stand on the door, giving the skies a good, once over. Teddy would place himself strategically right under the door of his cage. He would smack his lips and then hang his jaw open.  Just hoping that the bird would fall into it. At this point Teddy made direct eye contact with the bird. Open mouthed and slack jawed I moved closer and saw the little bird’s heart beating wildly in panic. His little beasts were moving as rapidly as a flag in high winds. I promptly shooed the dog away to the other side of the house and had him kept with the watchman. I had nightmares of waking up one day, and seeing small birdy feathers and a few bones on my balcony, and Teddy sitting in a corner and looking like – well like – a dog, who has swallowed a bird.

Teddy - at age 13. Connoisseur of birds and rats.
Teddy – at age 13. Connoisseur of birds and rats.

One day Nippy was gone. I admit I looked hard at Teddy, opened his jaw and checked, and all that, but apparently, Nippy had flown his (makeshift) nest! Teddy was bereft for days.

We have since shifted, kids have grown, so have the dogs, but I still look for Nippy across the skies when I hear parrots every morning. Teddy of course had plenty of wild dreams, when he would smack his lips and paw the air, thinking he had killed that damn unreachable bird.

The gaggle of them kids, have grown. Some become film heroines, some doctors, and my kids still have fond memories of those wild days.

 

Long Summer Shadows

laughterbubbles Those words that rhyme.

I wrote this a while ago.

The sea has always been a part of my life. I can be called fanciful for saying, that when in need of guidance, I would stand next to the sea and get my answers. I have never regretted all those decisions taken on the basis of these answers.

Long summer shadows,

Over cool, cool sand.

Sitting by the beach,

I gaze at the sea.

The waves are talking,

And the wind is whispering –

It’s secrets to me.

 

Secrets of life,

And, talks of living.

What I understood is –that,

Life is for forgiving.

 

Love the ones you love,

Never forget to tell them so.

Hugs should be free,

Even for your foes.

 

Spread good rumors.

Let the dirty ones rot.

Fill up everyone’s happiness pot.

 

Laugh a lot.

Dance in the moonlight.

Hold on to dreams.

And let the stars connect.

 

And when you get up.

(From the cool, cool sand.)

Your leg might be asleep.

But your soul has been set free.

Appu (2778)